Goodnight
by Angsty Anime Star
Summary: Well Roger's dying, and even if there was something he could do about it, he'd much prefer spending his last minutes with Mark in the comfort of their home. Very sappy, fluffy, and angsty discussion between 'brothers'.


**Alright, well i decided to give it another shot and post an actual story. This is movie-verse, and takes place a bit over two years after the end of the movie. Yes, its sad. It's about death. I suppose some may find slight Roger/Mark in here, but it was originally intended as a friendship/brotherly style of comfort. There also isn't exactly a starting point. Maybe say Roger's been ill for a few days now, more or less; really play around. But I don't find past and future narration necessary.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, Roger, Mark, any of the amazing songs ar characters or anything of the likes. And the idea of Roger dying fics, That's not mine either. There are many amny wonderful ones out there and i'm only adding one to the collection.**

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"You're dying" Mark informed dully as he pushed the hair off him roommates face. Roger looked at him with sort of a sad smile. Had it been anyone but Mark he would have cracked a joke about what gave him the hint.

The musician's face turned to a smirk. "I've been dying for four years." He used the arm of the couch to shift into a more upright position. Mark laid him back down, knowing Roger was weaker than he'd let on.

His face was nowhere near as amused. "You know that's not what I meant. I mean, right now." Roger nodded, unable to speak as his thin form painfully shook in a coughing fit. Mark held him steady. "We need to get you to the hospital."

"It won't make a difference." Roger whispered, and his filmmaker friend knew that was true. Mark looked down, wondering if after all this, he was really going to loose Roger. But the later seemed to read his mind, "I'm not leaving yet, you know."

"Yeah. I know." Mark smiled ever so slightly. _'So typical Roger'_ he thought with amusement. Mark felt himself holding his friend down as he went to stand again. "What do you need?"

"My guitar" Roger said, voice not hinting anything but the truth. And Mark couldn't stifle a snort. _'So typical Roger!'_

"You've got to be kidding me." The blond shook his head, chuckling. Still, he got up and brought the guitar. "So, you actually got an idea for a song?"

Roger didn't answer, but only started playing. He couldn't get his fingers to stop trembling and the first few notes were downright awful. He took an unsteady breath and closed his eyes, trying another chord. He sighed breathlessly, unable to get half the sound he wanted.

Mark looked up. Though he wouldn't say it wasn't expected, hearing Roger's playing like that, it scared him, worse than any other symptom the man had. "Take it easy."

Roger was silent for a long moment, as was Mark, and the steady paced breaths of both were the only sound in the dark room. Finally Roger asked, "Am I really dying?"

He knew the answer, and Mark knew he wanted to hear something refreshing. "Do you own a mirror?"

The man in the leather jacket, despite the summer heat, chuckled, "Yes. But you've been saying for years I don't use it."

Mark sighed. "How do you do it?" getting that his companion didn't understand he asked, "How do you laugh, make this seem so normal, when I know you're not that naïve?"

"First of all, dying is normal. Second, it's me. You, better than anyone know I'd rather spend my last few days with you and my guitar than in some stuffy white hospital room."

Mark nodded, absentmindedly shifting them both on the couch. When his hand brushed Roger's skin he noted, "You have a fever."

He didn't seem to expect that for Roger sort of looked at him skeptically. "Nah, its cold. 'Sides, I'm fine."

"Roger, you're fucking hilarious" Mark said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. The mentioned grinned and laughed assuring Mark he was "well aware".

For another few minutes they just sat there, staring at the nothingness in front of them. Neither felt the need to speak. Finally Roger sighed. "Mark, I'm tired."

And Mark understood completely what he was getting at. "Do you want to sleep?"

"No. Not yet." There was a slight wheeze to Roger's voice, as if his body was informing him it wasn't his decision to make.

The filmmaker nodded, slipping his friend's hand into his own. "I should be saying something. I should be doing something." He muttered to himself.

Roger's words came between breaths. "And I…am the…hilarious one?" he laid his head back, figure going slightly limp on Mark's shoulder. "It's cold" he noted again, pulling closer to the couch. "Mark, I.." he trailed off. "I'm sorry."

Mark looked dumbfounded. He didn't understand how or why Roger would be apologizing to him, but he didn't want to start and argument so he only said, "Thank you. As am I."

Roger nodded slightly, a small smile forming on cracked lips. For a second Mark could have sworn it was over, but Roger's eyes opened faintly again. "I don't want to go."

It hurt Mark to think about it. He didn't want his best friend gone of course, but he didn't want him in so much pain either. "It'll be okay."

"But," Roger started coughing again, blood trickling down his lip. He took another shallow breath and continued, "But, will you?"

Mark smiled slightly, squeezing his friend's hand. "Am I the predictable?" he murmured. "I'll be fine. Go and escape. You'll see some familiar faces." He reminded. "Say 'hi' for me."

"Okay." Roger agreed, settling back down. "Tell Mimi, Collins-," he stifled a cough. "Maureen, Joanne- Just, tell them all I'm sorry too….I wanted to see 'em. Say 'bye' for me." A silent tear dripped down his cheek and Mark looked back at the floor. "I'd promised to stick around."

It was true they'd all thought Roger had a few years left. He hadn't yet developed AIDS, not that they knew of. And it was a shame everyone lived so far away, and Mimi was out of state at school. She'd been all year, to the point her and Roger may not have even been considered 'together' anymore.

"I will." Mark promised.

"One last thing." Roger said. "Get out of here. Nothing's holding you back anymore. You've got the money, the career, the looks- go make a life for yourself, okay. Get a nice place, meet a nice girl, make some movies, and never dwell on the past." It was the last thing Roger wanted; for Mark to make the same mistake he did.

Mark smiled. "Fine. But only cause it's for you." Roger chucked dryly, his roommate following suit.

Roger knew it was ending soon. His breathing was more labored, eyelids shutting. As Mimi once said, there was indeed a white light waiting for him. It seemed like the only thing tying him to the real world was Mark's hand in his, and that feeling was going numb all to quick for his liking. "Night Mark."

Roger had spoken with a certain serenity and normality. Mark's response was much more heavy and choked out. Finally, he managed to reply. "Goodnight Roger."

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**Well there you have it. If i write more RENT fanfiction I'll TRY to write something, not SO angsty and depressing, but no promises. As always, reviews mean a lot to me, especially in an unfamiliar fandom. So please, if you have anything to say, say it. Thanks for reading.**


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